


The Lost & Found Kids Club

by emmacortana



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Big Brother Harley Keener, Harley Keener & Peter Parker are Siblings, Harley Keener Needs a Hug, Kid Peter Parker, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Precious Peter Parker, Protective Harley Keener, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, i'll add more as it goes - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:41:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22032742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmacortana/pseuds/emmacortana
Summary: In the midst of the chaos that the Chitauri invasion brought, four children quietly disappeared, all of them declared missing and presumed dead at the hands of the battle. Five years later, five children return, and they're all hiding something.
Relationships: Harley Keener & Peter Parker, Harley Keener & Tony Stark, Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Tony Stark, basically Harley Peter ned mj and flash r all friends in some way
Comments: 17
Kudos: 136





	The Lost & Found Kids Club

**Author's Note:**

  * For [myself I deserve it](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=myself+I+deserve+it).



> starting another mcu fic? we love that.
> 
> I wrote like 600 words for this like a YEAR ago and the concept's been there for a while, and I just got on a writing kick today? like I edited Fight Me? which was also from a year ago, and we'll see if I get onto Lemon Boy (I'll probably rewrite the first two chapters to get back on the flow and rename it, tbqh, I've never been rlly crazy about the name, but I didn't have any other ideas.) speaking of bad names, idk about this one, either. I also considered, *takes hand* no WE'RE Spidey, and the milk carton kids. they're awful. please help. also about the summary, its rl short but idk how I feel about it. also my kick is due to the lovely people who leave comments. I don't always have the energy to reply, but I promise I read and appreciate each n every one. they make me feel real warm and fuzzy and want to get back to work. thx so much to those who comment.
> 
> also I didn't rewrite this which we all know means it's shit. also dedicated to my cats they were very patient with my typing while they had their nappies I luv them uwu
> 
> I'm procrastinating so fucking much school work for this u nerds better appreciate this mess. but I'm planning for this to be a short fic so I have hopes that I will finish this ughhhh
> 
> wow im rlly mean in notes. k bye lol.
> 
> (also I fucked with everyone's ages for plot. also cause baby Peter is like baby Yoda for me: aka crack. k bye for real now)

In the midst of the chaos the Chitauri invasion brought, four children quietly disappeared. All of them declared missing, presumed dead, at the hands of the battle.

Ten year old Harley Keener, who had been visiting New York with his mother and little sister.

Eight year old Eugene Thompson, who was home alone at the time.

Six year old Michelle Jones, who had been dropped off at kindergarten that morning by her older brother.

And three year old Ned Leeds, who had been separated from his mother as people fled the streets.

They were not the only children who perished, but they were the only ones who had never been confirmed with a body. Nonetheless, the world went on, unknowing that it was four voices quieter.

-

Harley woke up on the floor of the coldest room to ever have existed. The air was chilly, there was only one bed, the walls were all an unnatural white except for one made of glass, reflecting the image back at him. And on top of all that, the base of his spine hurt like a mother—probably because of the hard sleeping surface.

Despite there only being one bed, there were four people. Three children, all seemingly younger than him, and a woman who was lying on the bed. There were machines hooked up to her—a monitor showing her pulse, and a tube stuck down her throat. An IV was attached, dripping saline inside her arm.

Harley was understandably very freaked out.

At the sound of him rustling, one of the children woke up as well. A girl, about the same age as his sister, Abby. She blinked the tiredness out of her eyes and Harley could see her take in the room the same way as he did—first with confusion, then apprehension, and finally fright.

“Who are you?” The little girl asked him warily, her tiny fingers digging into her palms like a tarantula’s death curl.

“Harley. I’m Harley.” The girl didn’t seem as frightened as she should be, all considering, but her bottom lip trembled and her eyes refused to blink. “What about you?”

She took a while to respond. “Michelle. But I’m not telling you my last name.”

He nodded, looking into her eyes. He considered asking her if she knew where they were or what happened, but figured she knew just as much as he did—that is to say, nothing. So instead, he gestured at the two unconscious boys and the woman on the bed, asking, “Do you know who they are?”

Michelle stared back at him solemnly, shrugging her shoulders. “I know Ned. Our moms work together. I don’t know the others.” She looked at the smallest boy, who must have barely been four at most, before her attention was once again caught by the woman. She walked over to her, tentatively placing her steps, until she was at the side of the bed.

Harley’s eyes glazed over at the small girl next to the lump of blankets and machinery, thinking long and hard about who they all were and why they might be here. His train of thought was only disturbed my Michelle who had apparently made a conclusion; her voice ringing out and echoing against the empty walls. “She’s in a coma,” she declared. “And pregnant.”

Harley startled. “How do you know that?” He asked, but Michelle merely shrugged again.

“My brother’s a doctor,” she said. “And so will I be when I’m older. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out she’s pregnant. Look at her stomach.”

As it turns out, she was right. What he had previously assumed was the lump of blankets was too spherical and smooth. Harley walked over next to her and draped off the faded blanket, then lifting up the hospital gown to see a round stomach as pale as a sheet of paper.

But the strangest part of it wasn’t the sickly shade of the woman’s skin, or the fact that they had been kidnapped and trapped with a pregnant woman in a coma with two other children.

It was the black and red circular piece of metal embedded into her skin.

Veins of red and mottled purple lead up to the metal in the skin surrounding it, similar to broken glass or a spider’s web. Harley held in a gasp at the sight, quickly recovering the stomach with the blanket and jerking back at the possibly diseased woman.

Before he could warn Michelle to fall back, the sharp movement forced a cry of pain as his spine felt as if it was on fire. Michelle seemed frozen as he gathered himself as much as he could in the span of those five seconds, and felt with his fingers at the base of his back.

He felt a cold, hard object protruding from his skin.

Horrified, he lifted his shirt and turned around so he could see his reflection in the glass wall, and sure enough, the same spindly veins lead to a circular piece of metal. From the sounds of Michelle doing the same, he didn’t have to guess that the two other boys had it as well.

It would be a lie to say he didn’t scream.

-

**FIVE YEARS LATER**

-

They had taken Peter again.

The men in the white uniforms had come early in the morning—or at least, what Harley presumed was morning, and lifted the trembling boy out of his arms. Harley watched, defeated, as they marched down the hall to the room that was reserved for only Peter as Michelle tried to calm Ned down.

Flash had been ever so helpful, as always—providing snarky comments as they ate the slop that came with their tray today. The one good thing about being genetically part spider was that they were never underfed. Harley only needed to ask for more food and they would get it—gray and tasteless as it was. Sometimes, they’d even give them some fruit.

The day passed as it always did, with Flash’s smark, Michelle’s smart quips, Ned’s stubborn attachment, and Peter’s growing curiosity, albeit absent from the group—with the uncertainty of separation coveting it all. Peter was the favourite, was always their favourite, ever since the bug came off and he was born. Flash’s stupid jealousy caused a rift between them—his being second oldest meant he was also the second weakest, and was taken appropriately less. He didn’t understand how Harley, who was older than him, didn’t mind being the most expendable.

To tell you the truth, Harley did mind. Every time they took one of the kids, he drove himself up the wall with worry. But they didn’t care about a fifteen year old boy who had a sorry excuse for a power—the tingling in his neck whenever one of the guards were coming to pick up the kids, which he didn’t even tell them about, and his slightly sharpened eyesight wasn’t enough to tempt them out from Michelle, who could hear someone whisper from a mile away, or from Ned, who could stick to walls with ease, or even Flash, who had superhuman strength.

And then there was Peter, the boy they’d gotten to in the womb. The boy who could do all of this, and more.

The boy whose powers were still developing.

Harley wanted to snap at Flash that he would gladly be taken over poor Ned, who trembled and wept the entire time, or Michelle, who wouldn’t talk for days afterwards. Instead, he was stuck there, caring for them when they came back. Carrying Ned, who was now too big to be carried, until he could walk by himself without collapsing. Coaxing Michelle out of her silence. Using his water ration to clean out the scrapes Peter came back with, calming him when he had an accident while sleeping because of a nightmare. Even staying up at night with Flash as he vomited even water, until he was a sobbing mess in Harley’s arms.

And Harley was tugging his hair violently at the thought of doing that again, tonight, when Peter would no doubt return teary eyed and bruised all over.

Ned was frantic with worry—the two youngest boys had developed an attachment to each other, so tight that they could get sick without the other. Peter also depended largely on Harley. Growing up, it was Flash who begrudgingly cared for Michelle and Ned, and Michelle who watched Ned, but it was Harley who had to take the newborn. Harley who demanded for milk, cared for him at night, encouraged him to babble nonsense, even as they were all going slowly mad over the incessant ramblings of a toddler.

So it was a big surprise, when Peter was returned to their room not fifteen minutes later, not a hair out of place.

“Peter?” Harley asked, rushing forward to take him from the guard with a glare. Tiny arms immediately locked around his neck. The guard left without another word, closing the door forcefully before running off, leaving them all in stunned silence.

Nothing. Then, “Something’s happening.”

It was Michelle that spoke, going up to press her ear against the door. “I can hear it. A lot of people are running. There’s an alarm going off.”

Peter nodded in affirmation, still holding tightly onto Harley. They all jumped when a loud banging sound startled them all. A large crack formed on one of the walls, the cement splitting, dividing into two like the red sea. Flash took a step forward, despite dust and small pieces of debris still settling to the floor, and peeked through the crack.

“Guys,” his voice shook. “I can see the hallway…”

Harley’s head ached, thoughts swirling and blurring into a confusing mess. The wall split. It wasn’t much, but it was enough. All those years, trying to figure a way out of the room, of pushing on the door to no avail, and now they were faced with a new problem. The door wouldn’t budge; it was made of some kind of metal immune to the combined efforts of Flash and Harley. The cement walls were, well, cement.

But if it’s already cracked…

“Flash,” he said with as much calm as he could muster. “Break the wall.”

They all cowered back into a corner, as Flash threw himself at the wall.

Once.

Twice.

The third time, the wall gave way, a small empty hole forming. Big enough for five children to squeeze through.

“You okay?” Harley asked Flash, who was holding his shoulder and grimacing. He nodded, obviously unhappy about something, but there was also a dark glee in his eyes. Satisfaction. He had broken a cement wall.

“Guys,” Harley said, acutely aware of the situation. “Once we go through, there’s no turning back.”

Michelle ignored him, and was the first to step out of that room on her own in five years.

Peter was next, handed to Michelle, and then Ned. Flash got through with a couple scrapes, steadied by Michelle on the other side, and then it was just Harley, in the room that imprisoned them for a third of his life, thinking of how best to tackle the small hole. He made it through, with significantly more scratches than the rest, contorting his body to fit and coughing dust all the way.

But he made it through.

They were out.

“We’re underground,” Michelle said, tilting her head up towards the ceiling. Harley knew that they had soundproofed their room to some degree, and Michelle always had headphones on when they took her. He didn’t know just to what extent, as she was grimacing at what he only presumed was footsteps in the general direction of up.

Harley hoisted Peter up and grabbed Ned’s hand, who in turn held Michelle’s. She offered hers to Flash, but he scowled and didn’t take it. “I’m not a baby,” he said, before sprinting down the hall, beckoning his family to follow.

-

It was hard to remember, sometimes, that even Harley was still a teenager. That Flash was only thirteen, and Michelle eleven.

Not when Flash was meeting every single guard they passed by with violent vigour, needing only one punch to knock them out. Not when Michelle told them to follow her, that she had constructed a rough map in her head of the compound, and she’s heard people exit west. How she knows where west is, much less any of that, he has no idea. But then, she had always been mysteriously intelligent.

The two littlest were hardly saying anything, watching with wide eyes as they were pulled along. There was a loud crack as Flash kicked a man between the legs, that Harley did _not_ want to know what he broke.

Michelle served as their navigator, warning them when someone was coming, and quickly hiding them as they walked by. Flash made sure the resistance they did find was short lived, and didn’t even get close to the kids. Harley tried to suppress his growing headache. He didn’t have any special skill he could wield, to make them all safer, so he held onto the two kids as tightly as he could, rushing as fast as he could.

It was at some point, that they started to encounter less guards, that the alarms had stopped. Whatever threat had been present had now been taken care of, which meant they needed to get out of there, fast.

The final escape was rather anticlimactic—Flash easily knocked out the guards by the exit, and stealing their card to open the gates was all it took.

And then they were free.

“Come on,” Michelle shouted, tugging all of them into a sprint. She was right, they had been underground, and now that they were above it, they could see a quaint neighbourhood looking of the most ordinary value, with apartments and bodegas, no sign that a nightmarish compound ran underneath. Harley knew it wouldn’t be long before the guards came after them, that maybe they’ve already noticed their disappearance. He only stopped to grab today’s newspaper from a stack, and urged on.

 _November 2nd, 2017,_ the date said. Harley choked as he saw it. Logically, he knew that five years from 2012 would be 2017, but personally? He didn’t know what to think of five years stolen from his life.

Flash, on the other hand, was staring intently at one of the corner stores, a flash of recognition in his eyes. Al’s Convenience, the sign read, and Harley could make out a bored looking teen behind the counter. “I know where we are.”

“What? Where?” Harley demanded, staring at the boy. Flash didn’t pay him any attention as he grabbed Michelle’s hand and rushed on.

“We’re in Manhattan,” he said, dodging the other pedestrians on the sidewalk. “Lucky for us, it’s close enough to downtown. If we run, we can get to Central Park in fifteen.”

“And we can hide there,” Michelle breathed. Harley just nodded, readjusting Peter more securely, as Flash picked up Ned. Just so, Michelle and Peter both froze, staring intently in the direction they had just come from.

It didn’t take much for Harley to figure it out. Flash ran, Michelle closely following, and Harley trailed, as the five made their way to Central Park.

-

The sheer amount of people in the park was overwhelming to Harley, who had only talked to six people, max, for the past half decade. Judging by the pained look on Michelle’s face, it was even worse when the sounds were deafening. He only had a second to thank whatever God there was that super hearing, as well as many other of Peter’s abilities, had not yet been fully formed and were rather suppressed.

The kids wove through the crowd, constantly moving, always glancing around for any familiar faces, people who don’t belong in the picture. With no set destination, they trudged through, hidden by the people.

Until Michelle was yanked back with a startled scream.

Harley was first to turn around, greeted by a guard, only distinguishable because of the scar going down his face. Harley was about to shove Peter onto Flash, tell them to run, and fight the guy however he can. There’s no way he was leaving his sister behind. But he also knew that he wouldn’t be enough, but Flash needed to be with the boys, that the violent scene would bring too much attention from all sorts of people.

It was Michelle’s quick thinking that saved the day.

“HELP! MOMMY! STRANGER DANGER! HELP!” She shrieked, again and again to anyone who might hear as the crowd’s movement slowly stopped, the people all turning to face what was the scene of a hysteric little girl fighting to get away from a grown man.

“STOP IT, STOP IT!” The scene captured the attention of the crowd, and the man looked alarmed, tightening his hold on her and twisting her arm to silence her. Michelle screeched, kicking at him as best she could, when Flash set Ned down and thundered towards him.

“Get your hands off my sister!” He said, shoving the man with the appropriate strength of a thirteen year old boy. The man sputtered, trying his best to reassure the crowd that this was just a misunderstanding; kids, right? But even so, the people kept watching, and of course Ned chose that moment to burst into tears, sobbing pathetic whimpers of _let her go, let her go_ , and Peter was screeching almost as loud as Michelle in fear and confusion, (and don’t doubt for a second that they didn’t time that because they _absolutely_ did, his siblings were geniuses,) and Harley knew their attention was locked.

Michelle’s twisted arm was turning purple, and Flash was about to shove him again, when a man stepped onto the scene.

“You alright, kids?” He asked steadily, but Harley could hear the steel in his voice, as he kept his eyes trained on the guard.

“He just grabbed my sister!” Harley yelled, doing his best to act like a scared but outraged child, (which wasn’t far off from the truth). “You’re hurting her!” He madly whipped to face the interloping man, gesturing wildly to the man’s grip on Michelle’s arm as she tried to twist out of it. “He’s breaking her arm!” He heard the hoard murmur, shifting uncomfortably, and the man’s eyes narrow at his hand on the girl.

“Come on,” the guard said, nervously turning to the man. “They’re my sister’s kids. Brats, too. I was supposed to pick them up and they know it, they’re just being difficult. Nothing to worry about,” the man flashed him a winning smile, as Flash still seethed at him, grabbing Michelle’s free arm and tugging her towards him.

Harley was preparing to yell _Liar!_ when the other man, dressed impeccably in a suit, also smiled back. “That viser grip you have on her arm would seem to disagree,” he said, derisively shoving his hand off of her as Michelle retreated into Flash’s arms. They stepped back, until they were in line with Harley and the kids, leaving the strange, older man to take care of this for them. It wasn’t as if they could leave, anyway—the mob had effectively turned into a wall, imprisoning them inside.

The guard snarled. “Listen, bud, I don’t want any trouble—”

The older man smiled charmingly, resting his hands on the guard’s shoulders. “Should’ve thought about that before you decided to prey on kids, then, huh? What is she, eleven? Sick fuck.”

And then he punched him.

Hard.

The guard reeled and fell to the ground, as the mob’s uncertain whispers turned into panicked ramblings. The man turned around to face the kids, eyes glancing over to Michelle, giving her a once over, before settling on Harley, the oldest. “You kids got parents?”

Harley cleared his throat, voice coming out uncertain and hoarse. “We lost them in the crowd. We were trying to find them.”

The man raised an eyebrow and nodded. “You need help with that?”

“Uhh—” He was caught off by Michelle, her voice sharp and decisive.

“Yes, we do. Could you please help us?” She asked, not sparing a glance at her brother. They were supposed to get the guards off their trails; how could they do that with some man lugging them around?

The man nodded again, and Harley zoned out in thought. “I can take you to the police station—”

“No!” All the children abruptly shouted. “No,” Harley repeated firmly. “We can’t go to the police.”

He raised his eyebrows again. “If you want to find your parents, then we should really be going to the police… I can’t exactly haul five kids over with me, you know?”

 _Shit,_ Harley thought. How do they get out of this? He knew for a fact that, whoever was keeping him, they could get into a police station easily.

And they just might find some of them expendable enough to count as punishment…

“We’re undocumented,” Michelle blurted out, low enough that only they could hear. “If we go to the police, we’ll be deported. We can’t.”

There were days when Michelle’s intelligence scared him with its breadth. If it was possible, the man’s eyebrows raised even higher.

“Alright,” he said, considering the children. He looked them all through over, once and then back again. “I can take you back to mine, and we can figure out how to contact your parents. I promise I’m not kidnapping you,” he said. There was something in his eyes that said he didn’t quite believe the story—looking at Peter and Ned’s wide eyed stare and Flash’s bloodied knuckles. Not to mention how undocumented parents would adopt apparently five different children, because they looked nothing alike. But it was good enough, and Harley let out a relief.

“Please,” he said. He took in the man, carefully observing him. Dark brown hair and kind but sharp eyes, middle aged, expensive suit. He clearly had a lot of money, and if judging by how the crowd rustled when he first stepped in, he might be well known, too. He knew that the man could turn on them, that he could’ve been one of them all along, but he didn’t see what other option they had. Besides, there were hundreds of witnesses to say the kids left with him. He finally caught onto Michelle’s logic: because of the scene, all the guards present had a clear view of where they were, and if they tried to leave alone, they’d be jumped two seconds in.

So it left trusting this strange man who had saved them once, and figuring out the plan from there.

He nodded and followed suit of his siblings, all trailing the man who’d introduced himself to them as Tony, like a line of lost ducklings finding their way home.

**Author's Note:**

> k thx bye lol


End file.
